Gemotions

“But… where did he go?” Mark asked, the question escaping his lips before he could stop it. The receptionist, a woman he’d known for years, simply shrugged, her face carefully blank. Mr. Thompson, Mark’s long-time editor and champion, was simply... gone. His office had been emptied. His belongings dispersed.

Mark ran a hand across his jaw, feeling the prickle of stubble. He hadn’t shaved, hadn’t slept. He’d been expecting a celebratory dinner, a toast to the completion of his novel. Instead, there was a void. A hollow space where support and guidance had once been. He felt a sudden, urgent need to sit down. He felt a weakness in his knees.